


when you find your heart a home

by saekhwa



Series: When I Think of Home [2]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Black Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Interracial Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 22:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8120380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: Rick worries too damn much, Zoe's still got jokes, and ain't nobody telling Floyd what he can or can't do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just really, really, _really_ needed to write some far-flung happy-ending future for my boy.

Floyd drifted between not-awake and awake with the nagging sense that—

He confirmed it when he rolled onto his side and hit nothing but mattress. He opened his eyes, and just as he'd figured, there was nothing but wrinkled sheets next to him. 

With a heavy sigh, he sat up and stretched until his back and shoulders popped. With that accomplished, he stood, scratching his chin, and walked around the bed, toward the dresser. He scratched his lower back as he pulled a T-shirt from the drawer, slipping it over his head and glaring at the light seeping through the curtains. He really needed to invest in some blackouts. Maybe that'd get Rick to stay in bed. 

Floyd left their room and peeked in on Zoe, smile soft when he spotted her surrounded by eight pillows, bundled under her purple comforter. At least one of them was still sleeping. He quietly shut the door and then headed to the kitchen, where he heard the sizzle of bacon at the same time that the smell of it hit him. 

And there was Rick, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, standing in front of the stove, piling more bacon onto an already-full plate. 

Floyd stepped into the kitchen to look around. He spotted two mixing bowls in the sink, measuring cups, and utensils. A fine sheen of flour dusted the counters, and Rick hadn't put up the damn milk. Floyd snagged that first and sniffed it. Smelled fine, so he put it in the fridge. 

"You forget the meaning of sleeping in?" he asked.

"Didn't forget," Rick said. "Just couldn't sleep."

So either nightmares or something else on Rick's mind. With no way of knowing without some deep diving, Floyd acted on what he could. He tilted his head from side to side until his neck popped, and then he wrapped his arms around Rick's waist, propping his chin on Rick's shoulder while Rick poured pancake batter onto the griddle. 

"So what's going on?" Floyd asked. 

Rick stiffened. Floyd bet Rick didn't even know he'd tensed. Floyd didn't loosen his hold, though, just watched the batter firm up, bubbles slowly rising to the surface. When a few of them started to pop, Rick poured three more pancakes onto the griddle, flipped the first, and then finally 'fessed up. 

"How long you think this'll last?"

Floyd held back his sigh. _You worry too damn much_ , he wanted to say, but he'd wondered the same thing himself. Waller getting committed to the same shithole that he'd been locked in didn't mean they were safe _or_ free. Hell, last Floyd had heard, because he stayed in the know, she'd broken out during a riot. She could be gunnin' for all of 'em, but he doubted it. Probably another ruse on top of a ruse on top of a secret plot to fight another alien invasion. That was definitely some shit Floyd wasn't trying to keep track of. 

And besides Waller, Floyd knew there were a lot of people who still had it out for him, who were still waiting on that one fuck up, like a certain Bat over in Gotham. But why rehash any of that?

He tightened his arms around Rick and felt Rick slowly give into it, first with his shoulders sagging, his body leaning against Floyd's as he released a long exhale. 

"You gotta learn to live in the moment," Floyd reminded him. 

Floyd knew what would happen next. They'd gone over this so many times that Rick's responses were like clockwork. 

Rick shook his head, tense again. Floyd didn't want to argue. Especially not first thing on a Saturday morning when Zoe was visiting. 

So he turned Rick around, and Rick scowled, trying to turn back to look at the pancakes. If they burned, they burned. They had plenty of batter to make more, and when Floyd glanced at the griddle, the pancakes looked fine. Still wet. 

He grabbed Rick's face in both hands and kissed him, rough, hurried, maybe a little mean. Rick pulled away, but at least his scowl had softened to a half smile. 

"Go brush your damn teeth," he said, planting a hand on Floyd's chest to shove him back. 

Floyd pivoted and kissed Rick again. "You don't get to tell me what to do, remember?"

That earned Floyd the rest of the smile that he damn well deserved. "'Cause you never fucking listen," Rick muttered, but he nodded, slowly. He didn't break eye contact for a single damn second as he rested a hand on Floyd's hip, filled with all these quiet promises. 

He leaned in this time, pressing a quick, soft kiss to Floyd's mouth, and then he turned back to handle the pancakes. Floyd turned to head to the bathroom and spotted Zoe, standing by the fridge, smiling at them both, still in her PJs. 

"I smelled breakfast," she said. 

"Uh-huh," Floyd said with a nod, and then shot her a sly smile as he nodded toward Rick. "Nice having a white boy in the kitchen, isn't it?"

She laughed and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tight, her, "Good morning, dad," muffled against his stomach. 

And just like that, Floyd's next breath felt like the first clean breath he'd sucked in when they'd let him out of Belle Reve. It felt good having his girl back, even if it was only for weekend visits, so he hugged her back, just as tightly, and kissed the top of her head before drawing back just enough to give her the classic dad look. 

"You brush your teeth?"

"Pot, kettle," he heard Rick mutter under his breath. 

"It's 'cause we're both black, isn't it?" Zoe asked with a casual innocence that would win her some mad loot in poker games. 

Floyd barked out a laugh, and Rick's shoulders drew up to his ears as he shook his head and focused hard on those pancakes. 

With a soft laugh, Zoe peered around him, probably to make sure it was safe, and then wrapped him in a hug as she asked, "What's for breakfast?"

Floyd shook his head and steered her out of the kitchen. "Go and set the table, and maybe Rick'll let you steal some bacon."

Rick shot Floyd a narrow-eyed look and pointed at Floyd with his spatula. "Nobody's stealing shit in this house."

Just to prove him wrong, Floyd swiped two pieces of bacon in that sweet spot of a moment when Rick turned back around to flip the pancakes. He handed one of the slices to Zoe, who accepted it with a grin. She held it between her teeth and grabbed forks and plates for the table. Floyd dropped a kiss to Rick's shoulder, and Rick turned his head to graze Floyd's cheek with another kiss before Floyd headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth so he could enjoy this delicious damn breakfast with his family.


End file.
